The Cloud
Messenger
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The Curse & the Exile
In the age when gods walked close to men and nature spirits tended the wild places of the world, there lived a Yaksha — a gentle guardian of forests and rivers, a faithful servant of Kubera, the great god of wealth and treasure.
The Yaksha was blessed among blessed: he dwelt in Alaka, the jewelled celestial city perched high among the eternal snows of the Himalayas. There, in a palace hung with flowering vines and filled with the music of fountains, lived his beloved wife — the most beautiful creature in all the three worlds.
But joy, as mortals know, is never unbreakable.
One day, drunk on the sweetness of love and lost in long hours of delight with his wife, the Yaksha forgot his duty. The sacred tasks Kubera had set him went undone. The god's wrath, when it came, was absolute and cold.
The curse fell upon him like a stone into still water. With a single word the Yaksha was torn from his home, his palace, his beloved — and sent down into the world of men, there to endure eight long months of scorching heat and solitary grief upon a lonely mountain, with four more still to come.
Eight Months of Sorrow
The months passed with the cruelty that only time can inflict upon a grieving heart. The sun blazed without mercy over the slopes of Ramagiri. The Yaksha's body grew thin, worn smooth by sorrow the way water wears stone — slowly, invisibly, until one day what was robust is hollow.
He did not eat, not truly. He slept only when exhaustion overcame him. His mind was a single, unrelenting ache — the face of his wife as he had last seen her, her eyes bright with tears she was too proud to shed.
He knew, with the deep certainty of love, that she suffered equally. He imagined her in their palace in Alaka: sitting alone among flowers that had never wilted faster, her hair unadorned and worn in a single braid — the ancient sign of a woman separated from her husband. He saw her weeping at their empty bed, pressing her cheek to the pillow that once held his warmth.
And so eight months vanished into the scorching air of Ramagiri. Four more remained, yet they felt impossibly distant — a whole ocean of days still to be crossed. The Yaksha wondered if a man could be so ground down by longing that he simply ceased to exist before his exile was over.
Then, on the very first day of the month of Ashadha — the month that opens the great Indian monsoon — something happened.
The Magnificent Cloud
A darkness gathered at the edge of the sky — not the darkness of night, but something more alive. A cloud. Not a thin, pale thing of the dry season, but a great monsoon cloud, swollen and magnificent, dark as a mountain of collyrium, heavy with the waters of a thousand oceans.
It moved across the sky with the slow, unhurried grace of an elephant — and indeed, as the Yaksha watched open-mouthed, the cloud descended in a gentle arc and came to rest upon the very peak of Ramagiri, as though a great dark elephant had chosen that hill to rub its flanks against, playful and unbothered by the smallness of the world below.
The Yaksha stared. Something broke open in his chest — not pain this time, but something like recognition. Something like hope.
He knew this cloud. Not its shape or its face, but its nature. It was alive. It breathed. It rumbled with a deep, resonant voice he could feel in his bones. It was a traveller, like him — a wanderer of the wide sky. And it was going north.
With hands pressed together in reverence, tears spilling freely, the Yaksha began to speak to the cloud. He knew a spirit cannot truly send a message by such a creature. He knew the cloud had no mind to hold words. But the heart does not negotiate with reason — and so he spoke.
The Itinerary of the Cloud
The Yaksha spoke to the cloud with the painstaking care of a man whose only hope hangs on a single thread. He traced for it a royal road through half of India — not the shortest route, but the most beautiful, as though beauty itself might persuade a cloud to hold a message gently.
He described Vidisha, the elegant city, where the cloud could drink deeply from the river Vetravati; the ancient Vindhya Mountains, garlanded in forest; and above all the sacred city of Ujjayini, with its fragrant river Sipra, its temples and its women, its peacocks and its perfumed breezes — a city so beautiful that even a cloud should slow its pace to look.
From there the cloud would climb northward past the gleaming peak of Mount Kailasa, home of the gods, where its own dark form would look magnificent against the eternal snows — a dark jewel set in white fire. And beyond that, at last, the heavenly city of Alaka.
The City of Alaka & the Beloved
With the fervour of a man who has spent eight months describing a place only in memory, the Yaksha painted Alaka for the cloud in colours vivid enough to guide any traveller. He spoke of crystalline fountains and pearl-hung balconies, of gardens where flowers bloomed in every season, of women who wore lotus blossoms in their hair and whose laughter rang like bells in a wind.
But all of that was prologue. His voice changed when he came to speak of one particular palace, one particular room, one particular woman.
He told the cloud exactly how to find her. She would be slender — more slender than he remembered, thinned by months of not eating properly. Her face would be pale as the autumn moon, drained of the brightness it held when he last saw it. Her eyes — her beautiful, expressive eyes — would be red-rimmed and puffy from weeping, even in sleep.
He described the little signs of her mourning with heartbreaking specificity: the vines she had drawn on the floor with chalk to pass the hours; the painting of him she had made from memory and wept upon until the colours blurred; the way she slept curled on one side of the bed, not the other, unable to occupy the space where he used to lie.
The Message of Immortal Love
Then, at last, the Yaksha came to the heart of all his speaking — the message itself. He had adorned the cloud with flattery, guided it across half of India, described his wife so precisely that even a blind man could have found her. Now he spoke the words he had held inside for eight aching months.
"Tell her," he said, his voice breaking at last, "that I am alive."
Tell her that the man who loves her has not dissolved into grief, though it was a close thing. Tell her that the sound of his name on her lips reaches him even across the mountains and the months — that love, whatever the philosophers say, is not a thing of proximity but of depth, and their love is deeper than any distance the gods can decree.
He told the cloud to say: do not weep so hard that your eyes lose their sight, for when I return I need those eyes to see me. Do not refuse food until your body fails, for when I return I need those arms to hold me. Tend yourself as you would tend something precious — because you are the most precious thing in all the worlds to me, and I am coming back.
The rainy season, he said, which separates all lovers, is also the season that precedes reunion. When the rains end and the sky clears to the lucid blue of autumn, when the cranes fly south and the moonlight returns — that is when the curse ends. That is when he will come running, breathless and laughing, up the path to their door.
With this promise spoken into the wet, charged air, the Yaksha fell silent. He pressed his palms together one last time, blessing the cloud for its journey, offering it flowers and prayers and all the goodwill a heartbroken man can muster.
The cloud stirred. It shifted its great dark form. It began, slowly, to move northward.
पूर्वमेघः — The Former Cloud
कश्चित् कान्ताविरह-गुरुणा स्वाधिकारात्प्रमत्तः
शापेनास्तङ्गमित-महिमा वर्षभोग्येण भर्तुः ।
यक्षश्चक्रे जनकतनया-स्नान-पुण्योदकेषु
स्निग्धच्छाया-तरुषु वसतिं रामगिर्याश्रमेषु ॥
तस्मिन्नद्रौ कतिचिदबला-विप्रयुक्तः स कामी
नीत्वा मासान् कनकवलय-भ्रंशरिक्तप्रकोष्ठः ।
आषाढस्य प्रथमदिवसे मेघमाश्लिष्ट-सानुं
वप्रक्रीडा-परिणतगज-प्रेक्षणीयं ददर्श ॥
तस्य स्थित्वा कथमपि पुरः कौतुकाधान-हेतोः
अन्तर्बाष्पश्चिरमनुचरो राजराजस्य दध्यौ ।
मेघालोके भवति सुखिनोऽप्यन्यथावृत्ति चेतः
कण्ठाश्लेष-प्रणयिनि जने किं पुनर्दूरसंस्थे ॥
प्रत्यासन्ने नभसि दयिता-जीवितालम्बनार्थी
जीमूतेन स्वकुशलमयीं हारयिष्यन् प्रवृत्तिम् ।
स प्रत्यग्रैः कुटजकुसुमैः कल्पितार्घाय तस्मै
प्रीतः प्रीतिप्रमुखवचनं स्वागतं व्याजहार ॥
धूमज्योतिः सलिलमरुतां संनिपातः क्व मेघः
संदेशार्थाः क्व पटुकरणैः प्राणिभिः प्रापणीयाः ।
इत्यौत्सुक्यादपरिगणयन् गुह्यकस्तं ययाचे
कामार्ता हि प्रकृति-कृपणाश्चेतनाचेतनेषु ॥
जातं वंशे भुवनविदिते पुष्करावर्तकानां
जानामि त्वां प्रकृतिपुरुषं कामरूपं मघोनः ।
तेनार्थित्वं त्वयि विधिवशाद्दूरबन्धुर्गतोऽहं
याच्ञा मोघा वरमधिगुणे नाधमे लब्धकामा ॥
संतप्तानां त्वमसि शरणं तत् पयोद प्रियायाः
संदेशं मे हर धनपतिक्रोध-विश्लेषितस्य ।
गन्तव्या ते वसतिरलका नाम यक्षेश्वराणां
बाह्योद्यान-स्थितहर-शिरश्चन्द्रिका-धौतहर्म्या ॥
त्वामारूढं पवन-पदवीमुद्गृहीतालकान्ताः
प्रेक्षिष्यन्ते पथिकवनिताः प्रत्ययादाश्वसत्यः ।
कः संनद्धे विरहविधुरां त्वय्युपेक्षेत जायां
न स्यादन्योऽप्यहमिव जनो यः पराधीनवृत्तिः ॥
मन्दं मन्दं नुदति पवनश्चानुकूलो यथा त्वां
वामश्चायं नदति मधुरं चातकस्ते सगन्धः ।
गर्भाधान-क्षणपरिचयान्नूनमाबद्ध-मालाः
सेविष्यन्ते नयनसुभगं खे भवन्तं बलाकाः ॥
तां चावश्यं दिवसगणना-तत्परामेकपत्नीं
अव्यापन्नामविहत-गतिर्द्रक्ष्यसि भ्रातृजायाम् ।
आशाबन्धः कुसुमसदृशं प्रायशो ह्यङ्गनानां
सद्यःपाति प्रणयि हृदयं विप्रयोगे रुणद्धि ॥
कर्तुं यच्च प्रभवति महीमुच्छिलीन्ध्रामवन्ध्यां
तच्छ्रुत्वा ते श्रवणसुभगं गर्जितं मानसोत्काः ।
आ कैलासाद्बिस-किसलयच्छेद-पाथेयवन्तः
सम्पत्स्यन्ते नभसि भवतो राजहंसाः सहायाः ॥
आपृच्छस्व प्रियसखममुं तुङ्गमालिङ्ग्य शैलं
वन्द्यैः पुंसां रघुपति-पदैरङ्कितं मेखलासु ।
काले काले भवति भवतो यस्य संयोगमेत्य
स्नेह-व्यक्तिश्चिर-विरहजं मुञ्चतो वाष्पमुष्णम् ॥
मार्गं तावच्छृणु कथयतस्त्वत्-प्रयाणानुरूपं
संदेशं मे तदनु जलद श्रोष्यसि श्रोत्रपेयम् ।
खिन्नः खिन्नः शिखरिषु पदं न्यस्य गन्तासि यत्र
क्षीणः क्षीणः परिलघु पयः स्रोतसां चोपभुज्य ॥
अद्रेः शृङ्गं हरति पवनः किं स्विदित्युन्मुखीभिर्
दृष्टोत्साहश्चकितचकितं मुग्ध-सिद्धाङ्गनाभिः ।
स्थानादस्मात् सरस-निचुलादुत्पतोदङ्मुखः खं
दिङ्नागानां पथि परिहरन् स्थूल-हस्तावलेपान् ॥
रत्नच्छाया-व्यतिकर इव प्रेक्ष्यमेतत् पुरस्ताद्
वल्मीकाग्रात् प्रभवति धनुःखण्डमाखण्डलस्य ।
येन श्यामं वपुरतितरां कान्तिमापत्स्यते ते
बर्हेणेव स्फुरितरुचिना गोपवेषस्य विष्णोः ॥
त्वय्यायत्तं कृषिफलमिति भ्रूविलासानभिज्ञैः
प्रीति-स्निग्धैर्जनपद-वधू-लोचनैः पीयमानः ।
सद्यःसीरोत्कषण-सुरभि क्षेत्रमारुह्य मालं
किंचित्पश्चाद्व्रज लघुगतिर्भूय एवोत्तरेण ॥
त्वामासार-प्रशमित-वनोपप्लवं साधु मूर्ध्ना
वक्ष्यत्यध्व-श्रमपरिगतं सानुमानाम्रकूटः ।
न क्षुद्रोऽपि प्रथम-सुकृतापेक्षया संश्रयाय
प्राप्ते मित्रे भवति विमुखः किं पुनर्यस्तथोच्चैः ॥
छन्नोपान्तः परिणत-फलद्योतिभिः काननाम्रैः
त्वय्यारूढे शिखरमचलः स्निग्धवेणीसवर्णे ।
नूनं यास्यत्यमरमिथुन-प्रेक्षणीयामवस्थां
मध्ये श्यामः स्तन इव भुवः शेषविस्तारपाण्डुः ॥
स्थित्वा तस्मिन् वनचरवधू-भुक्तकुञ्जे मुहूर्तं
तोयोत्सर्ग-द्रुततरगतिस्तत्परं वर्त्म तीर्णः ।
रेवां द्रक्ष्यस्युपल-विषमे विन्ध्यपादे विशीर्णां
भक्तिच्छेदैरिव विरचितां भूतिमङ्गे गजस्य ॥
तस्यास्तिक्तैर्वनगज-मदैर्वासितं वान्तवृष्टिः
जम्बूकुञ्ज-प्रतिहतरयं तोयमादाय गच्छेः ।
अन्तःसारं घन तुलयितुं नानिलः शक्ष्यति त्वां
रिक्तः सर्वो भवति हि लघुः पूर्णता गौरवाय ॥
पूर्वमेघः — Continued
नीपं दृष्ट्वा हरित-कपिशं केसरैरर्धरूढैः
आविर्भूत-प्रथममुकुलाः कन्दलीश्चानुकच्छम् ।
जग्ध्वाऽरण्येष्वधिकसुरभिं गन्धमाघ्राय चोर्व्याः
सारङ्गास्ते जललवमुचः सूचयिष्यन्ति मार्गम् ॥
पाण्डुच्छायोपवन-वृतयः केतकैः सूचिभिन्नैः
नीडारम्भैर्गृह-बलिभुजामाकुल-ग्रामचैत्याः ।
त्वय्यासन्ने परिणतफल-श्यामजम्बूवनान्ताः
सम्पत्स्यन्ते कतिपय-दिनस्थायि-हंसा दशार्णाः ॥
तेषां दिक्षु प्रथित-विदिशा-लक्षणां राजधानीं
गत्वा सद्यः फलमविकलं कामुकत्वस्य लब्धा ।
तीरोपान्त-स्तनितसुभगं पास्यसि स्वादु यस्मात्
सभ्रूभङ्गं मुखमिव पयो वेत्रवत्याश्चलोर्मि ॥
वक्रः पन्था यदपि भवतः प्रस्थितस्योत्तराशां
सौधोत्सङ्ग-प्रणयविमुखो मा स्म भूरुज्जयिन्याः ।
विद्युद्दाम-स्फुरितचकितैस्तत्र पौराङ्गनानां
लोलापाङ्गैर्यदि न रमसे लोचनैर्वञ्चितोऽसि ॥
प्राप्यावन्तीनुदयन-कथाकोविद-ग्रामवृद्धान्
पूर्वोद्दिष्टामनुसर पुरीं श्रीविशालां विशालाम् ।
स्वल्पीभूते सुचरितफले स्वर्गिणां गां गतानां
शेषैः पुण्यैर्हृतमिव दिवः कान्तिमत् खण्डमेकम् ॥
दीर्घीकुर्वन् पटुमदकलं कूजितं सारसानां
प्रत्यूषेषु स्फुटित-कमलामोद-मैत्रीकषायः ।
यत्र स्त्रीणां हरति सुरतग्लानिमङ्गानुकूलः
शिप्रावातः प्रियतम इव प्रार्थनाचाटुकारः ॥
अप्यन्यस्मिञ् महाकालमासाद्य काले
स्थातव्यं ते नयनविषयं यावदत्येति भानुः ।
कुर्वन् संध्याबलि-पटहतां शूलिनः श्लाघनीयां
आमन्द्राणां फलमविकलं लप्स्यसे गर्जितानाम् ॥
तस्माद्-गच्छेरनुकनखलं शैलराजावतीर्णां
जह्नोः कन्यां सगरतनय-स्वर्गसोपान-पङ्क्तिम् ।
गौरीवक्त्र-भ्रुकुटिरचनां या विहस्येव फेनैः
शंभोः केशग्रहणमकरोदिन्दु-लग्नोर्मिहस्ता ॥
गत्वा चोर्ध्वं दशमुख-भुजोच्छ्वासित-प्रस्थसंधेः
कैलासस्य त्रिदशवनिता-दर्पणस्यातिथिः स्याः ।
शृङ्गोच्छ्रायैः कुमुदविशदैर्यो वितत्य स्थितः खं
राशीभूतः प्रतिदिनमिव त्र्यम्बकस्याट्टहासः ॥
तस्योत्सङ्गे प्रणयिन इव स्रस्त-गङ्गादुकूलां
न त्वं दृष्ट्वा न पुनरलकां ज्ञास्यसे कामचारिन् ।
या वः काले वहति सलिलोद्गारमुच्चैर्विमाना
मुक्ताजाल-ग्रथितमलकं कामिनीवाभ्रवृन्दम् ॥
उत्तरमेघः — The Latter Cloud
विद्युत्वन्तं ललितवनिताः सेन्द्रचापं सचित्राः
सङ्गीताय प्रहतमुरजाः स्निग्ध-गम्भीरघोषम् ।
अन्तस्तोयं मणिमयभुवस्तुङ्गमभ्रंलिहाग्राः
प्रासादास्त्वां तुलयितुमलं यत्र तैस्तैर्विशेषैः ॥
आनन्दोत्थं नयनसलिलं यत्र नान्यैर्निमित्तैः
नान्यस्तापः कुसुमशरजादिष्ट-संयोगसाध्यात् ।
नाप्यन्यस्मात् प्रणयकलहाद्-विप्रयोगोपपत्तिः
वित्तेशानां न च खलु वयो यौवनादन्यदस्ति ॥
तत्रागारं धनपति-गृहानुत्तरेणास्मदीयं
दूराल्लक्ष्यं सुरपति-धनुश्चारुणा तोरणेन ।
यस्योपान्ते कृतकतनयः कान्तया वर्धितो मे
हस्तप्राप्य-स्तबकनमितो बालमन्दारवृक्षः ॥
तस्यास्तीरे रचितशिखरः पेशलैरिन्द्रनीलैः
क्रीडाशैलः कनककदली-वेष्टनप्रेक्षणीयः ।
मद्गेहिन्याः प्रिय इति सखे चेतसा कातरेण
प्रेक्ष्योपान्त-स्फुरिततडितं त्वां तमेव स्मरामि ॥
तन्वी श्यामा शिखरि-दशना पक्वबिम्बाधरोष्ठी
मध्ये क्षामा चकित-हरिणीप्रेक्षणा निम्ननाभिः ।
श्रोणीभारादलसगमना स्तोकनम्रा स्तनाभ्यां
या तत्र स्याद् युवतिविषये सृष्टिराद्येव धातुः ॥
तां जानीथाः परिमितकथां जीवितं मे द्वितीयं
दूरीभूते मयि सहचरे चक्रवाकीमिवैकाम् ।
गाढोत्कण्ठां गुरुषु दिवसेष्वेषु गच्छत्सु बालां
जातां मन्ये शिशिरमथितां पद्मिनीं वाऽन्यरूपाम् ॥
नीता रात्रिः क्षण इव मया सार्धमिच्छारतैर्या
तामेवोष्णैर्विरह-महतीमश्रुभिर्यापयन्तीम् ।
आधिक्षामां विरहशयने संनिषण्णैकपार्श्वां
प्राचीमूले तनुमिव कलामात्रशेषां हिमांशोः ॥
तामायुष्मन् मम च वचनादात्मनश्चोपकर्तुं
ब्रूया एवं तव सहचरो रामगिर्याश्रमस्थः ।
अव्यापन्नः कुशलमबले पृच्छति त्वां वियुक्तः
पूर्वाभाष्यं सुलभविपदां प्राणिनामेतदेव ॥
श्यामास्वङ्गं चकित-हरिणीप्रेक्षणे दृष्टिपातं
वक्त्रच्छायां शशिनि शिखिनां बर्हभारेषु केशान् ।
उत्पश्यामि प्रतनुषु नदीवीचिषु भ्रूविलासान्
हन्तैकस्मिन्क्वचिदपि न ते चण्डि सादृश्यमस्ति ॥
नन्वात्मानं बहु विगणयन्नात्मनैवावलम्बे
तत् कल्याणि त्वमपि नितरां मा गमः कातरत्वम् ।
कस्यात्यन्तं सुखमुपनतं दुःखमेकान्ततो वा
नीचैर्गच्छत्युपरि च दशा चक्रनेमिक्रमेण ॥
शापान्तो मे भुजग-शयनादुत्थिते शार्ङ्गपाणौ
शेषान्मासान् गमय चतुरो लोचने मीलयित्वा ।
पश्चादावां विरहगुणितं तं तमात्माभिलाषं
निर्वेक्ष्यावः परिणत-शरच्चन्द्रिकासु क्षपासु ॥
इष्टान् देशान् विचर देशान् प्रावृषा संभृतश्रीः
मा भूदेवं क्षणमपि च ते विद्युता विप्रयोगः ।
मेघस्यास्मिन्नतिनिपुणता बुद्धिभावः कवीनां
नत्वार्यायाश्चरणकमलं कालिदासश्चकार ॥
The Cloud Departs
And so the great cloud moved on. It did not speak — it never could. It held no words in its vast dark body. It was only water and wind and electricity, and it cared nothing for the grief of a small spirit on a mountain slope.
And yet — the Yaksha watched it go, and felt, for the first time in eight months, something other than pain. He had spoken his love aloud. He had given it shape and direction and a destination. Love, he understood then, does not require a vessel that can understand it. It requires only that we refuse to hold it in silence.
The cloud travelled northward through the rest of the monsoon season. Whether it ever found Alaka, whether any message was ever received, the poem does not say. What it says is this: the Yaksha watched until the cloud was gone, and then he sat down upon the mountain, and he waited — but now he waited with hope.
And hope, in the end, is the only message that was ever needed.
✦ FINIS ✦
After the Meghadūta (मेघदूत) by Kālidāsa · c. 4th–5th Century CE